Resident Evil: The Fallout
by NGV2
Summary: After the events of Resident Evil 4, Ashley Graham is left with choices. She can shrink into a life of hiding and worry. Or she can become strong enough to combat the bio-terrorism that has become a part of her reality. Kirk Richter is a young man who is frustrated. Hampered by phobias and discontent with life and society in general, he steps in to help Ashley.
1. Resident Evil: The Fallout- Prologue

**Prologue**

Ashley rode quietly in the back seat of the SUV sent to pick her up at the airport. With her hands folded across her lap and her head bowed, she might have been sleeping. It was fine with her if Agent Peters thought that. She wanted to be left alone in her thoughts for a while. Truth be told, she was tired after the nearly full day of traveling she'd had to endure to get home. First she had the manic jet ski ride with Leon, then a helicopter with a pilot who seemed intent on making her airsick flew her to an airport in Europe, where she boarded a military jet. Strapped into a seat with cargo mesh, she had felt her stomach rise into her throat at takeoff. Landing hadn't been all that bad, but her butt was sore. The plus, heated seats of the SUV helped, and she finally felt like she was back in a place where she belonged.

Her thoughts were a swirling mass of memories of the past few weeks. She could recall everything that she had seen and done and been subjected too clearly;-whether that was good or bad she wasn't sure. To her amazement, she'd hadn't been raped, which was probably why her mind was intact.

 **But I've seen people murdered in front of me. I've seen people turn into monsters, unafraid of death or anything else. I was nearly blown up on that island. But I'm alive. Somehow, I'm alive.**

Ashley turned to look out the window, pressing one hand to the glass. Her reflection greeted her. She was filthy; she probably smelled. Her clothes were tattered, and she was covered in scratches and bruises.

Even so, a smile crossed her face. It was a small smile that stood in defiance of the years of therapy to come. Most people didn't have their own personal superhero. But after seeing Leon Kennedy in action, Ashley was sure she did. Or maybe he was a guardian angel, sans wings.

 **He shot down my 'hero gets the girl' proposal. Probably because of that slut in the red dress** , a catty corner of her mind intoned. **I don't know if I'll ever see Leon again, but I won't be useless next time.**

"Agent Peters?" she asked her driver, finding a strength in her voice that surprised her.

"Yes, Ms. Graham?"

"…If I wanted to start training…you know, martial arts. Guns. Weight lifting…could you help me get started on some kind of program?"

Agent Peters looked back at her. He was in his mid-thirties, with a wife and a young daughter he spoke of all the time. He was also a retired Marine Corps Colonel.

"Ms. Graham, I'm not sure your father would approve of that…"

Ashley surprised her self again. "What my father doesn't know won't hurt him, Agent Peters. And besides…he wasn't there. He didn't see what I saw…"

Agent Peters returned his focus to the road in front of him.

"We'll start when you're ready, Ms. Graham."


	2. Resident Evil: The Fallout- Chapter 1

_**Eight Years Later**_

 _ **The Daily Ledger**_

 _December 21_ _st_ _, 2013_

 _Sunday Edition_

 _Tensions rise around the country as we enter into a new year. At the center of the political quagmire is the question of gun control. Some view it as an unconstitutional attack on personal rights; other see it as a way to keep the streets safe. We took to the streets to interview two people with differing opinion._

" _Guns are simply not necessary in our society," said Margery Hayes, 51. "We need to look towards peace, not war. Our government needs to guide us, as a nation, to the correct conclusions, be that what to eat, how we pay for our healthcare, or when it comes to guns."_

 _Opposing her was Daniel Holmes, 25._

" _This is a blatant attack on not just the Constitution, but common sense! There are murderers, rapists- evil people out on the streets. They have guns. I will keep a gun to protect myself and my family. With all due respect, the police are a reactionary force. What happens when you need to defend yourself immediately? I'd rather have the ability to fight when I need to. I think it's better to keep a clear conscience, knowing you did all you could to save a life, be it your own or someone else's."_

 _Two people with impassioned views. The polarized population of our nation will debate these issues for quite some time._

 _In the aftermath of the 'Cannibal Killings' in Raccoon City, there was a surge in the purchase of firearms…_

The diner was a cozy reprieve from the harsh December weather. Winter had hit New York hard, blanketing it with snow, and adding an ice storm for good measure two weeks back. Some places were still without power.

The diner was nothing special- chipped Formica counters; faded wallpaper and a floor that looked dirty despite a good cleaning every day. The menus were simple (and sticky to the touch), and the staff was friendly. It was the kind of place where the staff knew the patrons by order, if not by name.

An elderly couple sat by one of the large front windows, their hands intertwined on the table. They smiled kindly at the world as it went about its business. A high-powered female executive in a sharp red blazer and blue skirt cursed into her cell phone and typed furiously on her laptop, largely ignoring her French Toast and coffee that had been placed in front of her almost an hour ago.

There was only one other patron on such a miserable snowy day. A young man with dark brown hair sat at the counter, staring intensely at the newspaper. He was practically radiating irritation, though he politely declined when asked by a matronly waitress if he wanted 'more coffee, hon?'

Dan Holmes folded up the newspaper, his face fixed into a grimace. He was surprised they had quoted him correctly, but dismayed that he'd been put into the same article as Margery Hayes. He knew her personally, and she was an idiot, pure and simple. The kind of person that had the worlds best interest at heart but no clue how to go about doing anything other than behaving like a sheep. A weak person with no ability to think for herself.

"Eat what I'm told. Like hell," Dan muttered, sparing a smile for his unhealthy ham and cheese omelet with home fries. Good old greasy diner food. This was a slice of real Americana as far as he was concerned.

"From my cold, dead hands," he added to himself, taking a gratifying bite.

The doors burst open, letting in a blast of cold air. Dan turned to look.

A young woman entered, and she turned heads as she did. Even if she hadn't been beautiful, one couldn't help notice her tight black jumpsuit and thick coat. The coat was black and clearly top of the line, but it was torn in several places.

Dan's trained eyes spotted blood near the hem.

The young woman had long blond hair pulled into a ponytail. She seemed both strong and vulnerable as she brushed the snow out of her hair. Her bangs fell over her eyes, and she seemed to notice all eyes were on her.

Taking the initiative, the waitress came over with a menu and a friendly, if slightly forced, smile.

"What'll ya have, hon?"

"Coffee would be great. Regular, please," came the smooth reply. The girl plopped down as if exhausted onto one of the counter stools, resting her head on one hand. Her voice had been strong enough, but it seemed the simple act of talking had exhausted her remaining energy.

Dan was not into girl watching. Whether it was the fact that he was shy around women, or that the women his age were largely still too immature and petty for his standards, he didn't tend to fixate on them. But this girl…somehow he knew he couldn't leave her alone. Without knowing why, he got up and moved to the stool next to her.

"Excuse me," he said, waiting for the girl to turn her head towards him before continuing. "Look, I don't mean to bother you, but… are you alright?"

The girl's eyes flicked towards the door. She didn't seem aware of the gesture. "Why? Do I seem pale or something?"

"No, no, you just seemed…distressed, I guess. Thought I'd make sure you were okay."

Dan slid his gaze toward the door. He could see clearly, now. A black car with tinted windows was parked just outside.

 **Oh shit. That's either a government car, or I've just stepped into some huge crime. The girl looks scared, but that could be because the FBI is just outside.**

 **That, or maybe she's an undercover health inspector, here to bust the diner. Don't borrow trouble, Dan. It isn't your fight just yet…**

The waitress brought coffee. The girl returned her smile, then looked to Dan with a serious face.

"You see them, right? In the car?" she asked, speaking in a voice that was just above a whisper.

Dan matched her low tone. "Yes. I see them."

"You don't want to get involved with me. You'll get hurt…"

Dan raised an eyebrow. "Really? The government is out to get you? Not that I wouldn't believe it…"

She shook her head. "No. I'm with the government, in a manner of speaking. They're the bad guys."

"Not to be 'that guy', but can you prove that?" Dan asked. "For my safety," he added.

The girl didn't budge, save to pull out a picture. "Here. A picture of me with my Dad. I think you know him."

Dan looked at the picture, and his mouth dropped open. The girl at the counter was standing next to President Graham! He studied the picture, looked at the girl, then back at the picture. She matched up with the girl in the picture as far as the face and general body structure went.

"That makes you…"

"Yes. Ashley Graham. The previous Presidents daughter."

Whatever Dan had been expecting, that wasn't it. He handed the picture back.

"Okay, I believe you. Those guys…they're out to get you? Why?"

Ashley shook her head. "You'll get killed. If I just go out there now, everyone else here might have a chance. I don't know what I was thinking…"

Ashley got up, a resignation in her movement. "It was nice meeting you…" She paused, not knowing his name.

"Dan."

"Dan. Well, excuse me."

Dan got up and walked next to her, leaving cash to cover his bill and hers at the register. "No, excuse _me_ ," he said. "Call me old fashioned, but I don't let a lady walk to her doom. At least not alone. Besides, I think I can help you."

Ashley stopped. "Yeah? You a Navy SEAL with an M-16?"

Dan stood in front of her. "No. Try a martial artists with two handguns and a conscience."

Ashley thought for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, before she took Dan by the hand. "Come with me."

She dragged him back towards the kitchen, where the restroom was. She knocked on the door, opened it, and shoved Dan inside.

 **This could be hot if it wasn't flu season** he thought wearily.

"Okay, you've got two guns? On you, right now?" Ashley asked urgently.

Dan nodded. "Yes. A revolver on my left ankle; a .40 caliber on my right hip, inside my pants. Spare magazines in my jacket…"

"Nothing personal, but put your hands on your head. I can't be sure you're not one of them. But you lending me a gun would go a long way towards helping."

Dan put his hands on his head. "My intention is to help. Take whichever one will make you feel better."

Dan blushed, realizing the gun on his hip was on an inside-the-pants holster. Ashley didn't hesitate; she pulled the gun out, nodding, all business.

"Okay, I believe you. Have you ever shot a person before?"

Dan shook his head. "No. But I don't let people get murdered in front of me, so I'll get over being gun shy fast enough. Just tell me who to shoot at."

Ashley gave him a thin smile. "I don't think you ever really get over it. But you've got a good heart. Now, let's go back out there. If anyone asks, you were making sure I was alright because my stomach was upset. Better yet, might be easier if I just say you're my boyfriend."

"You could do worse," Dan murmured, returning her smile. "I'll keep that other gun holstered, then, until we get outside. Might be best to have an ace to play."

Three men in identical black suits were in the diner when Ashley exited the bathroom, her 'boyfriend' in tow. She sat back down in front of her coffee. Dan took up his spot next to her.

The three men approached, one of them palming something. Dan only saw a glint of metal before he was turning to fight-

And got grabbed by one of the three. The other two went for Ashley.

As Dan grappled with his attacker, Ashley braced herself against the counter and kicked hard, one booted foot lashing into her attacker's chin. He fell back hard, hitting the tile floor. The patrons screamed and ran out of the diner. The waitress ran for the phone to call 911.

Dan threw his hip into his attacker, loosening the larger mans grip on his neck. He drove his elbow repeatedly into the attackers kidney before breaking loose. He kicked the man in the back of the knee, dropping him down, before he palmed the back of the man's head and ran his face into the edge of the counter. The sound of facial bones breaking was gut wrenching, but Dan was more worried about Ashley.

Ashley had a gun, but she couldn't get to it to use it. The last attacker standing was the biggest of the bunch, and strong as an ox. He grabbed her wrist with one hand, the other holding the metal object.

 **A syringe!**

Ashley kicked out again, but pulled her foot back as the syringe swiped down.

Dan debated on going for his gun, but decided against it as Ashley and her attacker thrashed around. Instead, he leapt behind the counter, secured a steak knife, and took off running toward Ashley's attacker. The syringe swung toward him, and he instinctively dodged backward while slicing with the knife.

He heard a cry of pain, and saw the syringe fall from the man's blood-covered hand. The needle of the syringe had come to rest on top of the man's foot. Ashley stamped her foot down, releasing the contents of the syringe into her attacker.

"NO!" he shouted, throwing Ashley to the floor. She banged her head and didn't get up immediately. Through blurry eyes she saw Dan leap over the counter and run toward her, only to be tackled by the first man Ashley had kicked. The knife clattered out of his hand as he began to wrestle with the goon in the black suit.

The man who had gotten stuck with the syringe had stopped screaming. His mouth was open in a contorted gesture of horror, but only a strange gurgling sound came out.

Ashley was still in a daze, but she knew she wasn't seriously hurt. She'd landed ear-first, and her balance was messed up as a result. Her mind was clear, however, and she tried to think of what was in that syringe.

 **Purple…not green, so not T…Purple…with yellow…what is it? You know this, Ashley!**

And it occurred to her just as the mutation started.

"The G-E virus…"she murmured. She began to scramble to her feet, her hands automatically chambering a round in the handgun she'd gotten from the man stupid enough to help her.


End file.
